Persian literature is rich with wonderful works: its poets enchant both with the charm of verse, and with marvelous images, and with the depth of meaning. Rudaki, Khayyam, Ar-Rani—these are among the main poets of Persia. But among them there is one who stands apart: his works are read by children in schools, his poems are recited in bazaars and on great roads; in his epics, connoisseurs of beauty—who have always been plentiful in Persia—search for seventy-two meanings contained within them, as the Persian proverb says. Wherever Persian speech is heard, his name is famous—Saadi. His best-known work “Gulistan” was written in 1258, and, as the author himself explains in the introduction to the book, the reason was this: feeling old age approaching, Saadi decided to devote the rest of his days to God, engaging in contemplation and reflection away from the world—in solitude. He met a visiting friend in an unusual way—through complete silence. Astonished, the guest began to argue that people like Saadi—who can say so many good and useful things to people—have no right to remain silent. And so Saadi decided to create “The Rose Garden,” a book whose pages could no longer be scattered by the autumn wind and in which the joys of spring would not be followed, as in a garden, by autumn’s devastation. The Roses had not yet faded in the garden when the entire “Rose Garden” was ready. “Gulistan” consists of 8 chapters, apparently corresponding to the eight gates of the Muslim paradise. Each of them reveals different aspects of everyday wisdom.